Farewell to Love
by Miko Akako
Summary: It will only break his heart. He knows this, and yet he is drawn to this place like a moth to a flame. It is impossible for him to resist, though to go can only lead to pain. One sided Sebofsky. One sided Kurtofsky.


**Story**: Farewell to Love  
><strong>Author<strong>: MikoAkako  
><strong>Beta<strong>: None  
><strong>Pairing: <strong>Sebofsky (one-sided), implied Kurtofsky (one-sided)  
><strong>Rating<strong>: T  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: I don't own anything you recognize.  
><strong>Summary: <strong>It will only break his heart. He knows this, and yet he is drawn to this place like a moth to a flame. It is impossible for him to resist, though to go can only lead to pain.

**A/N:** Something I wrote right after 'The First Time,' but ff just emailed me saying they added Sebastian as a character, so I'm only posting it now. If you follow me on tumblr, you've probably already read it.

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><p><em>Since there's not help, come let us kiss and part;<br>Nay, I am done, you get no more of me;  
>And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart,<br>That thus so cleanly I myself can free;  
>Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows,<br>And when we meet at any time again,  
>Be it not seen in either of our brows<br>That we, one jot of former love retain.  
>Now, at the last gasp of love's latest breath,<br>When his pulse failing, passion speechless lies,  
>When faith is kneeling by his bed of death,<br>And innocence is closing up his eyes,  
>Now, if thou woulds't, when all have given him over,<br>From death to life Thou might'st him yet recover._

_Michael Drayton_

It will only break his heart. He knows this, and yet he is drawn to this place like a moth to a flame. It is impossible for him to resist, though to go can only lead to pain. To stay away is a torture which he cannot bear.

His heart has been hidden away so long, shadowed in coy smiles and a debonair charm that has never failed him. He has travelled the world, capturing foreign hearts with little more than a glance. And yet! And yet in all his excursions, he has never been so enthralled. In an endless list of paramours, none have ever elicited such a forceful response. There is no cause for it; no reason why this man should have such a hold on him. It defies all logic. It goes against his very nature to be thus captivated by a single person.

He delights in freedom, scorns the chains of love that surround him. Love weakens that which is made strong by solitude. Love requires a give and take. It demands compromise and concessions that a life alone does not. He could not tolerate shackles, and yet his wrists are bloody and raw. The more he fights the tighter they constrict until he cannot breathe from the pain. And yet fight he will.

For one more night he will allow love to consume him. He will not rebel against the swell of his heart when their eyes meet. When the other looks away in disgust he will not try to hold together the pieces that shatter. But instead drive the knife in deeper, until it reaches his core and shakes his very foundation.

In the morning he will pick himself up off the ground. He will tell himself love is useless, and loving such an oaf is stupid. He will remind himself that he is beautiful, and even if he did believe in love, it would be with someone worthy of him that he explores it. He deserves a prince, not a jock who has never left Lima. When the sun rises, he will nurse his wounds alone. Alone, alone, alone…

And if his dreams stray to hazel eyes and a soft, sad smile, he must push the thoughts away. When he is pressed against a long, lean body he must force himself to forget the sturdy, muscular one that engulfed him so completely, sheltering him from everyone including himself. He cannot let himself dwell on the soft edges concealing raw power; the jaw, the neck, the crook of an arm. His mind must never remember the safety he felt, making love to a man who was in love with another.

He tells himself each week it will be the last. He tries to resist the lure of the nameless man who has captured his cold, dead heart. And one day he may succeed, but not this day. This day he will yield. This day, he will break.


End file.
